


Icarus

by thingsishouldntbedoing - discontinued (arminoni)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arminoni/pseuds/thingsishouldntbedoing%20-%20discontinued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The closer you get to the truth the further from freedom you become. The more lies you unravel the longer the ties between shadowed figures become. Levi is no longer a marionette, suspended and manipulated, but at the cusp of his retirement a boy appears that will turn his understanding of the Underground on its head and send him plunging into the darkness. Icarus' descent begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ascent Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming to check this fic out! I hope you enjoy it!

They say the story of Icarus is a tragedy. The boy who made wings of wax and feathers to escape; to fly to freedom. But in his haste, in his hubris, he disregarded warnings and flew too close to the sun; melting the wax wings he so cherished.

He fell to his death and drowned.

* * *

Summer had always been his least favorite season. Sultry and laden with the heady scents of jasmine and begonias and honeysuckle it dizzied his mind, making thought impossible under the blinding sun. Even walking down the sidewalk towards his home with his friends beside him he felt suffocated, pulling at the collar of his shirt as he took a breath in of too-damp air that clung to his skin and smothered his lungs.

“I think we’re going to go to Jean’s pool do you want to come?” His best friend’s voice stole him away from his thoughts like a lure, splashing into his subconscious and drawing on a line until Eren had rejoined them.  
  
“What? No I’m okay,” Eren smiled, pausing his stride to see them off at the corner. “You guys have fun, I’ve got some stuff to do.”  
  
“If you’re sure, are you going to walk Sunday?” Jean asked, folding his arms behind his head.  
  
“Dude you just got sweat all over me!” Eren wrinkled his nose against Armin’s laughter. “Yeah I’ll be there, who else is gonna be there to boo you off the stage?” He teased.  
  
“Dick,” Jean shoved him and Eren caught his wrist to keep from stumbling off the curb.  
  
“Shit head! Get out of here!” Eren laughed and shoved him back with his free hand.  
  
“I’ll call you later?” Armin smiled. “Congratulations, by the way, on finishing everything.”  
  
“Yeah, you too, we could have given up, huh?” Eren slapped him on the shoulder playfully. “Go on I said!” He smiled as he watched them walk towards Jean’s house, hand in hand, talking in low voices.

Summer was his least favorite season because somewhere under the heavy perfume of flowers and freshly cut grass hung the coppery scent of blood. And somewhere under the buzzing of cicadas was buried the muffled sounds of gunshots in the sweltering heat. 

* * *

Retirement was so close he could almost taste it: the sweet flavor of coconut milk on a white sand beach with the sun flickering through deep green branches. That was the life. Better than sweating on top of the sheets in a tiny-ass apartment in the Paris slums. Better than praying for some air movement to lick away at the salt sticking to his skin. At least on a white sand beach he could _pay_ someone to lick the salt off his skin.

The chime of an email roused him from his bed, just when the daydream was getting good, and he slid his fingers over his keyboard to wake his computer before padding into the kitchenette and filling the kettle. It was always a rough morning when the smoky air of the city spilled in the windows and filled the lungs of any living creature with its murky flavor. As if being alive was a chore, though he supposed in his line of work staying alive really was--

**2 New Messages**

He supposed that wasn’t much of a surprise, messages had begun to trickle once he’d subtly begun turning down offers. Since he’d started to let the rats of the sewerway whisper amongst each other about _Levi_ and how he was leaving _the business_. It wasn’t as though someone in his position could simply announce their retirement, no he had the next best thing: vermin who thought they knew more than everyone else.

The first message irritated him, just another correspondence with the same frustrating contact from before. _Don’t leave the business._ He scoffed at the suggestion, glancing at the subject of the next message. For a moment he hesitated, finger hovering over the bright screen. 

**Sender Unknown**

**_I have a job for you._ **

Somehow it was haunting, there in the murky heat of his apartment in broad daylight, a chill went down his spine. _Why?_ He supposed he’d had enough mysterious emails in his life that this one couldn’t be all that threatening. However… considering he’d almost been phased out why would someone be-- the sharp whistle of the kettle drew his attention and he rose, unsettled.

No one should be contacting him about jobs. Word had spread, he was sure, yet-- could it be this was someone who didn’t know? Somehow outside the chain? He steeped his tea carefully, taking a little too long, movements languid. He wasn’t about to hurry but each time he glanced over at the screen where the email waited to be read his heart leapt with some sort of anticipation.

 _Okay_ , he sighed against the lip of his cup, clicking the message. _What’s the worst that could happen? I can just turn them down._ He supposed the fact that he hadn’t had a job offer in days could be why his blood was pumping in his ears as he read the text.

 _I was told you could help me. I will pay you 5,000,000 USD once your job is complete. Please meet me at the address below on May 30, 9 PM._  

“America?” He wondered aloud. But the number still burned in his frontal cortex, searing into the grey matter and turning the wheels of thought. He could do a lot with five mil. He could live comfortably with five million dollars. More than comfortably if he was careful. The temptation was too much.

 _America, huh?_ He teased his finger along the nickel slide of his handgun, the cool metal familiar and reassuring, weight familiar in his hand as he lifted it and slipped the safety down.

One last job. That had a nice ring to it.

* * *

“I’m going out,” he called as he swung the screen door open.

“Eren I’ll come with you!” He heard his sister’s voice from the kitchen.  
  
“No it’s fine, Mikasa, I’m just going to the store but later I’m hanging out with Jean and Armin if you want to come.”  
  
“Just wait a minute and I’ll come with you!” He heard her wash her hands and slipped out the door.  
  
“I’ll see you at Jean’s!” He let the screen door clatter closed behind him, shoving his helmet down onto his head and climbing onto his bike and turning the key in the ignition.  
  
“Eren!” He could hear her voice, muffled through the protection around his head, backing up the drive. “Fine!” She folded her arms over her chest just inside his sight, sundress ruffling in what passed for a summer wind, long black hair pulled back in a braid that whipped around when she turned back to the house.  
  
 _Sorry._ The roar of his engine echoed off the empty driveways and open garage doors, mingling with the laughter of children and the sizzle of early evening barbecues. The silence it left behind empty and hollow, haunting in its bitterness.

He supposed there was no helping it, at this point in his life; on the cusp of adulthood and teetering on the edge of reaching out and taking control of his own destiny… he’d have to make sacrifices. Even if that was the Ackerman family that had so kindly taken him in, cutting them loose from his life to keep what was swerving in and out of his rear view mirrors from touching them.

He slowed at a gas station, turning his head just slightly to catch a silver sedan sliding into a parking spot, shoving his hands into his shorts and fiddling with his keys as he walked into the store to look around. He wondered when tension had begun to prick at the hairs on his neck, when his fingers began to play with things on the shelves, when he picked up that package of Swedish Fish and the bottle of coke… all he could do was glance up into the angled mirrors once more before making his way to his bike again, hoping he hadn’t picked up anything else in his absentminded attempt to stall for time. _Damn_ this heat and the bead of sweat that trickled down from his hairline. Maybe his mother was right, he really did need a haircut.

* * *

Levi slowed, checking the navigation once more to be sure he was in the right place, before slowing next to a silver car. The navigation systems were unreliable in Europe, he couldn’t imagine they’d be any better in the States. 

“A construction site… how cliche…” he grumbled, inspecting the sedan as he stepped out. There was something eerie about an abandoned construction site, the way the summer winds roared around the half finished corners brought the hair on his arms to attention as he bumped gloved knuckles against the glass of the car. There was only one vehicle here, but a single track led into the site. _A motorcycle?_ He kicked the gate open and walked in the footprints stupidly left behind by whoever was here. _They don’t train them like they--_ His thoughts were interrupted by movement, a grunt and the sound of blows being delivered. _What?_  
  
A figure moved quickly above him as he reached for his gun, the shout from a suited man cutting the air as Levi drew, and sprinted up the stairs. He swung around and aimed high.  
  
“Oh shit!” A pair of twitching feet dropped down onto him, the man’s hands clawing at the fabric around his throat as a figure hung behind him, counterbalancing his makeshift noose. For a long moment Levi stood in horror, watching the purpling color of the victim’s face. He had seen death before. Death in the most gruesome and torturous of ways. But something about this, sneaking up on him unprepared and unguarded… he stared death in the face and watched it steal this stranger’s last breath.  
  
He fell heavily to the floor as his killer released his tie, eyes still wide with shock and struggle. For a moment Levi watched him, wondering if he might stir again. Soon after death bodies would twitch as their nervous systems broke down, involuntary reactions that inexperienced killers interpret as living. Overkill wasn’t necessary. Just get the job done. 

He looked up to the figure half-cast in shadow, backlit by a burning sunset. His handsome face betrayed no malice. No he wasn’t killing these men out of anger. There was no trace of hatred in his eyes, only passive curiosity. He was calculating, watching Levi’s every move, formulating a way to recover the upper hand despite Levi’s gun. Levi knew. He had seen it before. The tilt of the fingers, the shift of his body prepared to break the line of fire. _He’s been trained._ He lowered his weapon just slightly to look around. He could see the bodies of two other men, one had been garrotted if Levi had to guess from the purpling lines around his esophagus. A quick and easy detainment method. The other had been dispatched with a swift crack to his neck, knife still curled into his hand; unused.  
  
“Did you do all this?” He asked.  
  
“They’ve been following me for two days,” the boy replied. His striped tank and low slung cargo shorts weren’t the clothes expected of a killer, he supposed a civilian would have expected a James Bond with a pristine suit and dark sunglasses; not a punk kid with straggly hair that clung to his temples and bright Caribbean blue eyes that glittered when he pushed his bangs back.

But Levi knew better. He knew the most dangerous ones blended. They didn’t look any different from the common citizen. Not the cunning ones. The sane ones. They weren’t murderers, out for bloodlust, they were controlled and carefully culled. Marionettes on the strings of the real murderers.

“What’s your name?” Levi asked.  
  
“Eren,” he replied, “Eren Jaeger.” He fished something out of his pocket and Levi tensed briefly before he was ripping open a bag of candy with his teeth. “Do you like Swedish Fish?” He stuck a bright red candy into his mouth and Levi wrinkled his brow.  
  
“I’ve never heard of them,” he replied calmly and let the boy lead him away from the bodies. _Was he sent here to kill me? Was all that just a trap?_ He furrowed his brows.  
  
“You’re different, you must be the one I sent for,” Eren looked over his shoulder.  
  
“You?” Levi sounded incredulous. “You’re the one that sent me that email?”  
  
“Yeah? And?”  
  
“You think I’m stupid? Like I actually believe you have five million dollars stashed somewhere in that shitty sweat-soaked piece of fabric you call a shirt,” Levi asked, lips curling down in a subtle scowl. Something shining and silver pinged through the air and Levi caught it on instinct, rolling the heavy coin in his fingers.  
  
“I was told you could help me,” Levi looked up at the boy in awe, lips parted and tongue working around words he desperately wanted to say… thoughts he couldn’t transfer into any recognizable language. “Where I got the money from isn’t any of your business… but I have it. More if you need it.”  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Levi finally worked around his shock, rolling the coin between his knuckles absently.  
  
“I need answers,” Eren picked at his teeth casually, scraping out the clumps of red gelatin. 

“I’m not a detective,” Levi told him; flipping the coin in the air and letting it land heavily in his hand.

 _Heads._ _You die._ Emblazoned with an intricate unicorn the heads side of the coin glittered when Levi stroked his thumb over it.  
  
“For five million dollars you will be,” Eren told him, eyes glittering as he turned.  
  
“What kind of answers?” _Heads. You die._

“I want to know who killed my parents,” the boy murmured. “I need to know,” light blazed in his eyes, “so I can kill them with my own hands.” The curl at the corner of his lip, the way his hand clenched around the bag of candy, the shift in his broad shoulders… all of it spoke to the well contained rage that simmer just below the surface.

So maybe the kid really was a murderer. In his own way.  
  
“So when do we start?” One last flip. _Heads._

 _We die._ He searched Eren’s face before turning the coin over in his fingers and slapping it down into his hand.  
  
 _Roses._ He watched the golden surface of the tails side glint in the fading sunlight. _We live. If only because we make it so._  

* * *

They say the closer you get to the truth the further from freedom you become. The more lies you unravel the longer the ties between shadowed figures become.

The closer you get to the sun.

The closer you are to the fall.


	2. The Ascent Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copper flooded his senses and reddened his vision against the backdrop of too many bodies and too much cologne and too much perfume and not enough deodorant. Blood spilled over his hands and onto the stage and crept up his sleeve.
> 
> This is the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry this chapter took so long.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as thingsishouldntbedoing, tracking fic: icarus

“So when do we start?” Eren felt the weight of the coin in his hand, hot between their palms, and for a moment he was suspended by the only thing real in the world-- the hand of a killer he knew nothing about. Here, surrounded by unfinished walls and fluttering industrial plastic, the scent of blood filled his nostrils and countered the sweet scents of May flowers and left chills on his skin. All the things that existed as truth and lies were meaningless here.  
  
“My adoptive parents want me to walk at graduation,” he answered, almost relieved when the weight of the man’s hand lifted from his. “Your name is Levi? What’s your real name?”

He had taken the gunman in before their conversation had begun: short with broad shoulders and tall boots over jeans. His button down and vest were admirably designed and pressed, telling Eren he wasn’t short on cash, and the way he carried himself-- chin up, shoulders back-- were indicative of confidence, of power.

If he had known better Eren would have been more intimidated.  
  
“Levi is my real name,” Levi replied dismissively. “Listen, this is a business exchange. I do what you pay me to do but it’s not going to be that easy and I’m not about to let you out of my sight. I don’t trust you...”  
  
“You shouldn’t,” Eren added, feeling a little panic bubble in his chest. Maybe he was pushing it with this man, stretching his patience with overly confident words.  
  
“Look I’m retiring so when all this is over… I’m going to kill you.” His grey eyes glinted in the sunset and Eren’s lips spread over his teeth in a mixture of a sneer and a smile.  
  
“I await the day,” Eren flipped the coin and caught it, slapping the heavy metal onto the back of his hand. “Rose.”  
  
 _We live. If only by our own making._

“So what happens now?” Eren wondered aloud, folding his arms behind his neck as they walked past the bodies. “What do we do about _them?_ ”

“What do you usually do with them?”  
  
“Bury them,” Eren answered, but felt he had just given more information than he should have when Levi looked at him over his shoulder.   
  
“Kind of a sentimental kid, aren’t you?” Levi said. “Well from here I’m going to go to a goddamned hotel and rest because it’s 3 AM where I’m from.”  
  
“Your accent is really American,” Eren had taken note of his voice the first time he’d spoken. It had struck him like warm honey spiked with bourbon, but there was a roughness to it; like shards of glass on the tongue. When Levi said nothing Eren dared to ask a question, “Where can I find you from here?”   
  
“Here,” Levi tossed him a phone from his pocket. “We only communicate through these. If you need to contact me don’t you dare use your own phone. Do you know the rules?”  
  
“Words are death.”  
  
“Heh,” Eren almost wanted to ask why the corner of Levi’s mouth had turned up, why he seemed pleased with his answer, why he had known the answer to begin with.

 _I have so many questions and you’re my only chance._  
  
Eren flipped the coin absently once more, following Levi down the steps, but a hand snatched it out of midair and his heart dropped.  
  
“The next time this coin lands will be the last time I see you alive,” Levi slipped the coin into his pocket and Eren’s heart tightened. _Death_ would be watching him at every turn.

 

* * *

 

_One last job._

Even the next day Levi repeated the idea in his head until he found the words chasing after each other and confusing each other until he had no choice but to stop thinking, slapping his computer shut and standing up in the dim light of the hotel room. “I need a fucking cigarette,” Levi muttered, reaching into his suit pocket and slipping the case out as he walked to the window. “Goddamn.”  
  
This _one last job_ was costing him a few favors, more than a few if he was honest with himself, but he tried not to be honest. He tried not to think about how _if_ he decided to come out of retirement in a few years he’d be out the favors he’d spent years developing and managing and carefully crafting into his perfect little bundle of loose ends that would keep him satisfied with information any time he needed anything… but he had to be careful.  
  
“You know you’re not supposed to smoke in here, right?” The door behind him clicked shut, a soft voice reaching out to him through the hot beams of fading sunlight.  
  
“I haven’t even lit it yet,” Levi mouthed at the filter, sighing through his nose. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have fifteen graduation parties to go to?” He shoved his hand in his pocket to finger over the coin there, heavier than its weight in silver.  
  
“I just thought I’d come see how that stuff is going,” Eren ran his fingers through his too-long hair and Levi snorted. He was certain the kid spent four hours every morning making sure his devil-may-care hairstyle was perfected. Kids were always like that. Even kids who murdered without a second thought.  
  
“Nothing, yet.”  
  
“Yet?” Eren rubbed his arm, pushing the sleeve up to scratch at his deltoid almost absently.  
  
“I haven’t found any traces of the parents you claimed to have. No trace of the town you say you lived in. Not a single whisper of where you were born. As far as I know you’re lying to me and you were dropped at that piece of shit orphanage the day after you were born.”  
  
“But you’re still here, you haven’t killed me yet.”  
  
“I’m interested, that’s all,” Levi slipped the coin out of his pocket and flipped it. He watched Eren’s eyes catch on the glint of gold and follow. “I’ll kill you when the time comes, like I told you.”

“I look forward to it,” Eren replied with a faint smile.

“Good,” Levi slapped papers to his chest as he walked forward. “This is your plane ticket. You leave Sunday night.”  
  
Eren caught them, wrinkling them between his fingers and glancing over the words, “To Paris?”  
  
“It’s where I live. Having a home in a high traffic city means easy movement from target to target _and_ less suspicion on entry and exit.”  
  
“But I don’t get it… why would I go with you?”  
  
“Look this is a bigger undertaking than one man can handle, and if you want to kill someone you’re going to do the work to get there. I won’t just hand them to you on a silver platter,” he waited a beat, watching the uncertainty flicker like sunlight on the surface of a smooth shore.  
  
“Hey Levi?”  
  
“What is it?” He chewed the filter again before spitting the wasted cigarette into the trash.   
  
“Do you--” Eren hesitated.  
  
“Do I what?”  
  
“Nevermind, I’ll see you in Paris,” Eren slapped his own thigh and forced a smile onto his face. “Oh yeah my graduation is Sunday if you… want to go?” He wasn’t sure why he’d even offered, it wasn’t as if they were close. Levi was a hired gun meant to help Eren recover what he’d lost, not even an acquaintance.   
  
“Party… right…” Eren gave the assassin a thumbs up and headed for the door, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
 _I was right. He’s a fucking weird kid._

 

* * *

 

This moment wasn’t one Eren had planned very well. The day before his graduation and here he was telling his parents he was leaving for a summer long journey with no _real_ explanation why. Well he had something up his sleeve but… 

_Please let this go smoothly._

“You’re going where?” His mother pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I don’t understand this is so sudden!”  
  
“Well I’ve been saving up for a backpacking trip for a long time right? I just thought this would be the perfect time to do it,” Eren slid the papers towards them. “Plus there’s a pretty good internship there that I’m working on getting, it starts in July so… I dunno! I’ll just live on the cheap and have some fun!”  
  
“I don’t know, Eren,” his father sounded uncertain. “Is this really what you want to do?”  
  
“I want to go back home, okay?” Eren played a card that turned his stomach, a lie he knew would hurt the people he cared so deeply for. “I want to see where I was born.”  
  
That seemed to be the trigger and he watched his mother’s tears spill over, crushing his own fingers together beneath the table. _I’m so sorry._

He wasn’t surprised when his sister showed up in the door to his room as he packed his clothes in a duffel bag. Folding each haphazardly and throwing them in was his idea of _packing._  

“I want to go,” Mikasa told him, face concerned. “I’m going with you.”  
  
“How about this, when you graduate next year I’ll take you okay?” Eren caught her hand in his. “And it’ll just be you and me and we’ll be together for two months?”  
  
“Eren… have you told Armin and Jean? What about the others?” Mikasa took a step into the room and Eren’s heart sank, glancing over at the picture on his bedside of his two best friends and himself; all sunburnt and laughing on a beach in Florida.  
  
“I’m not going to tell them until after graduation.”  
  
“You mean you won’t tell them until you’re gone,” Mikasa murmured.  
  
“I don’t want them to try and stop me, okay?” Eren said forcefully. “It’s bad enough that _you_ know.”  
  
“Eren please don’t go… I have a bad feeling about this,” Mikasa reached out, curling her fingers around his arm.   
  
“There’s nothing to feel badly about, okay? I’m just going on vacation,” Eren pried her hand away and pulled her into a hug. “C’mon it’s going to be okay I’ll call you every day.”  
  
“You promise?” Mikasa asked softly, burying her face in his chest.  
  
“I swear,” he stroked her hair gently, resting his chin atop her head. “I swear.” _I won’t let you get hurt._  
  
“I won’t tell Armin and Jean. I promise.”  
  
“Thanks, you’re the best.” He chuckled.

_If I’m lucky I can get out of here with a clean break._   


* * *

 

“Hey Eren!” Connie was the first to greet him the afternoon of graduation, cap perched precariously on the soft mohawk he’d been working on for years. Somehow his hair never did grow very long.  
  
“What’s up, man?” Eren caught his hand in a shake and grinned.   
  
“Eren!” Armin called his name and hurried over, Jean following at a lazy pace at his heels. “We’re graduating! I can’t even believe it!”  
  
“Yeah I know, nice tassels valedictorian,” Eren plucked at his cords and Armin flushed with pleasure.   
  
“I’m so proud of you,” Armin wrapped his arms around his friend and hugged him tight.   
  
“Alright get in line! There’s enough time to hug later,” a teacher walked along the line, ushering students back into their places, and Armin grinned sheepishly.   
  
“We’ll see you afterwards,” Jean clapped Eren on the shoulder. “At least you and me are together, right?”  
  
“Yeah, if you can behave yourself,” Eren jostled him. Sadness filled his chest. Sadness at what he was about to leave behind. At what was about to happen. He supposed a great number of others felt a similar sadness: that their high school years were over and they’d be moving away from their families… but he wasn’t sure it could compare to watching his best friend smile and laugh, knowing what he knew. 

 _I kill people._ Eren thought as Jean adjusted his tie beneath his gown, watching his fingers fumble with the smooth satin. _My hands are painted in blood._ He found Jean’s curious eyes and held them for a moment, searching for something there. _Why can’t you see it?_  
  
 _Why can’t I feel anything?_  
  
“You okay, man?” Jean nudged him again.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eren smiled brightly. “Let’s just get this over with!” He shoved Jean back, almost into the girl in front of him.   
  
Waiting for his name to be called was like water torture. Each name was another drop on his forehead that trickled down behind his ear. Even cheering the loudest for Armin’s speech couldn’t distract him from counting down the seconds. He checked his phone again, sliding his tongue over dry lips.

 _Four hours._  
  
He whimpered in the back of his throat, terrified that he wouldn’t make his flight on time. _If I don’t make it… what happens?_  
  
“Eren?” Jean said his name and he hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket.  
  
“Alright,” he looked up at the teacher at the end of their row. “Come with me,” she gestured and led them off out of their seats.

“It’s finally happening!” Jean whispered and Eren nodded, glancing up and around the auditorium.   
  
He wouldn’t say excitement filled him when Jean crossed the stage but butterflies beat their wings for escape against his gut and filter up into his throat, knowing he’d be next.  
  
“Eren Ackerman,” he heard his name called and climbed up the stairs, heart pounding.

_This is the last thing I will ever do under that name._

He reached out as the crowd cheered around him, shaking hands with his principal, looking out and at the people gathered.

 _This is the last time I will ever see any of them._  
  
His eyes found Armin’s face, searched for Jean’s, and landed on a figure in the back of the auditorium; a man with pale skin and a long thatch of hair atop his head. A man with dark gloves and rolled sleeves and knee high boots that made Eren’s skin tingle.

Copper flooded his senses and reddened his vision against the backdrop of too many bodies and too much cologne and too much perfume and not enough deodorant. Blood spilled over his hands and onto the stage and crept up his sleeve.  
  
 _This is the end._

The man vanished, turning and disappearing through the double doors, and Eren’s heart skipped a beat-- the roar returning to his ears in replace of the silence that had screamed against his eardrums a moment before.

 _I am a killer. How could you touch my hands?_  
  
He walked down the exit steps, heart weak in his chest. 

_Why don’t I feel bad?_

He counted down the seconds, waiting impatiently for each name to be called.

 _Do I deserve any of this?_  
  
When they threw their caps it all felt surreal, as if he were walking in a dream, and he could almost feel the seconds count down. 

He posed for pictures, smiling as brightly as any of the others.

His sister took a picture of Armin and Jean and him.

Every passed like the flash of a camera. In a blink he was walking away from the crowds. Away from his family. Away from his friends. It had been the perfect time to slip away. To get lost.  
  
He threw his gown in the trash and picked his bag up out of the back of his parents’ car.

If all went as planned they would remember his flight once he was already at the airport.  
  
 _I’m not like any of you._  
  
A text buzzed in his pocket.

**Where are you?**

“Don’t worry about it, Armin,” he shut the phone down and dropped it into his bag. “I won’t be anywhere soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> on a side note I'll be tracking fic: icarus for this if you're interested in talking about it!


End file.
